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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191946">The Anchor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGitsgreen/pseuds/OMGitsgreen'>OMGitsgreen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AND I LOVE THEM FOR IT, But you really got to squint, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Friendship, Gen, If you squint and turn around three times this is shippy, Pre-Canon, Relationship Discussions, Religion, jester and fjord are both very complicated characters, spoilers for cr episode 101, working through some Fjord and Jester thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:47:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGitsgreen/pseuds/OMGitsgreen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fjord offered none of himself that he couldn’t spare, and Jester was an open book whose text needed to be decoded by someone who had a degree, and so they could spend all day circling a point like they were circling a drain. Fjord had never met anyone else in his life who knew how to dance over what they meant to say as deftly as he did before." </p><p>Fjord considers his relationship with Jester, as it moves through moments during their journey together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fjord &amp; Jester Lavorre, Fjord/Jester Lavorre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Anchor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I literally wrote this in one day because I was having a lot of feelings about last night's episode and Fjord and Jester's relationship and how complicated and nuanced their relationship is in general. </p><p>This is not written to be particularly shippy, however, feel free to read into it as you like. I leave it purposefully open ended in that regard because, well, their relationship is open ended right now. I am just more interested in these characters and the way their different life philosophies interact. </p><p>*Edit: I added the Fjord/Jester tag because I read my own writing and you know there are vibes and I want to be clear to readers. But really, not that shippy. </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The days in the north seemed to end much faster than those in the Menagerie Coast. The further that Fjord and Jester traveled the keener he felt that to be true. The air lacked that certain sumptuousness that it did along the coast where it was full of the sea, humidity, and a warmth that bled from the ground and swelled until everything shimmered like it was made of something costly. Even in the dregs of summer that bled into fall, the season felt austere. Fjord had known all his life that the Dwendalian Empire was a strict place, but even the rolling hills and forest lacked a sort of color that he was used to. It reminded Fjord of the washed out grey of a sea at storm, when there was barely any difference between frothy waves and storm clouds on the horizon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sure that Jester felt it too, though she tended to attempt to fill their days with color in her own dizzying and breathless sort of way. Jester loved to talk but hated conversations, and that was why they had gotten along so swimmingly from the first moment they met. Fjord offered none of himself that he couldn’t spare, and Jester was an open book whose text needed to be decoded by someone who had a degree, and so they could spend all day circling a point like they were circling a drain. Fjord had never met anyone else in his life who knew how to dance over what they meant to say as deftly as he did before. He wondered where she had learned those valuable lessons, but didn’t pry. It was mostly for his sake because he was supposed to be using her. He had thought she had carried herself like someone who had money and such a person would be useful to travel with, and she did have money...at one point. Not any longer. It was just another one of those truths that both of them acknowledged but neither of them addressed outright. Eventually though, one of them had to crack open and offer the olive branch.  For both of their sakes, Jester seemed to steel herself and bridge that divide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Fjord,” she murmured as she curled tighter at the base of the tree, offering that branch to him though she sounded like she loathed every second of it, like a child forced to pull a baby tooth before it was ready to fall on its own. Fjord let his eyes drift over to her for a moment, as he sat rod straight against the bark. Her hair wreathed her hair and dark blue curls like a crown and she didn’t move to fix it as she flopped around like a dying fish. “I shouldn’t have spent all that money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Fjord promised her as he gazed up into the boughs of the tree. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at the beautiful hawthorn, blossoming in a crown of flowers and thorns</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was a song that an old sailor had crooned between puffing at a pennywhistle. It was too bad it was out of season, Fjord thought, he would have liked to see a hawthorn bloom for the first time in his life. His gaze drifted away and then settled beyond the wide dark plains of the empire. “We’ll figure it all out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always say that,” Jester grumbled, and Fjord could hear a pout in her voice as clear as day, see her violet-flushed cheeks and her furrowed brow. He felt a smile pull at his lips and the scars that lined the inside of his mouth from nail files and dislodged bones. It was typical, that even in these small moments that were happy, he still had to remember those things he wished he could have left behind.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I been wrong yet?” Fjord asked, nudging her with the toe of his boot. Jester turned over like a roly-poly and stuck her tongue out properly at him. Fjord released a hearty laugh in return that felt far more natural. Laughter has been a frequent friend since he had met Jester, and he liked that most of the time he meant it with her. Even if he didn’t like to share himself, he disliked being dishonest. Lying by omission hurt much less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I am sorry,” Jester admitted, her eyes wood-violets cast in shadows. Her blanket was wrapped up to her chin as she did nothing to extricate herself out of her cocoon. “If I had the money we could have traveled with the caravan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My old captain once told me that if we live from our mistakes we ought to learn from them,” Fjord told her quietly, twining his fingers in the grass to anchor him. He pulled at it half-heartedly, feeling the dirt swell and contract with his gentle tugs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t make that mistake again, the horse didn’t even appreciate her clothing!” Jester huffed. “I promise Fjord, when we find my dad it’ll all get figured out. We’ll be able to get new horses and find our way to that academy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get some sleep so we can switch,” Fjord told her, amused exasperation creeping into his voice. Jester rolled back over and curled up again, breath even though she was clearly not asleep. Fjord settled in again, against the trunk of that old tree. There was a promise in the north, like the promise of a shooting star. It was something ephemeral and hopeful that conflicted with that dark fear that roiled in his guts like churning black ocean water. If he could get there, perhaps he could find out what had seeped into his bones on that dark night and hadn’t let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fjord shook his head, attempting to shake out those thoughts from his mind. Things were easier when Jester was awake for many reasons, but that was the main one. It was hard to focus on the past when she was dragging him along to the beat of her own drum, but as soon as he was alone all he could do was stew in those feelings that he had long wished to forget. Jester was kind and good and saw those good things in Fjord that Fjord knew that only existed like flashes of lightning, but Fjord knew he could have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He could have convinced that caravan leader who had turned them away, he could have done what he had needed to so that they would be safe and comfortable in a world that wasn’t nice to either of their kind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vandren had always been able to make people listen to him. Some people were just like that, they could command a room or a group of men with the ease of breathing. No one had ever listened to Fjord. He had practiced the art of disappearing until he was barely made of anything more than sea mist that dissipated in the morning sun. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t drown, Fjord had thought once. Fjord was nothing, as weightless as driftwood broken off from a whole and eroded until he was battered beyond repair. Though he knew that it wasn’t that. His lungs had filled with water just the same as any man. The miracle that had saved him and flung him to shore just as carelessly, intertwined with him and grew in him...deep in his heart he knew it wasn’t a miracle at all. Miracles don't happen to children tossed aside as easily as a stone. There would be a price to pay soon enough, he just hoped he would find someone who could help him before that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he could be more like Vandren...be the type of man that Vandren would trust, then maybe Fjord could make sense of the outside world. Jester deserved a friend like that at least, Fjord thought with a wince. Not whoever this pushover was. When someone joined with you in friendship there was a responsibility shared...a responsibility to be actively working towards the common good. He would take responsibility, Fjord decided. He would be the type of person that people could rely on, and if he had to discard that other person...well, there wasn’t much of him that he hadn’t discarded before to suit the needs of those who needed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This would be no different, but far more important. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He pressed the breath in his lungs into her mouth as the weight of the ocean and all of his horrible decisions bore down on them with teeth and tendrils and hungry yellow eyes. Live, Fjord begged her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Live</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a kiss, Fjord thought pressed against the wall of a captain’s quarter later as Avantika’s fingers danced across his skin. Kisses were things freely given from the heart. Fjord had nothing left in him to save. It was just easier to think of that, of anything else, besides the things that were as plain as the nose on his face. It should have been her choice, but it hadn’t been. So it wasn’t a kiss. It was merely a desperate attempt to save someone else beside himself...to save someone deserving for once in his life. Somehow Fjord was always failing at the simplest of tasks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> saved. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Fjord was the worst kind of thief, the kind that took other’s precious things and pretended they were his own and that he was worthy and deserved them. But the goddess looked upon him, and told him he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>worthy and that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserve to be saved. He supposed he just had to figure out what She saw in him that he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fjord would make it right. He had to. For all of their sakes, to deserve their trust and their love. Patched together Fjord and driftwood Fjord and empty Fjord wouldn’t cut it. He would be a Fjord that he could be proud of, that was his promise.  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Fjord never understood how such big consequences could be decided by such insignificant moments. He could trace a million split second decisions that had somehow led him here. And yet all of them seemed small compared to the moment he had hesitated and the moment that Jester had pushed forward into the hag’s hut and left them all behind. Beau released a strangled noise, her face still sallow. Yasha’s face had gone as hard as stone. Nott looked as if she wished she could sink into the center of the earth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was supposed to be different now, Fjord thought helplessly. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> different. He was no longer cutting himself apart to please others. He had been given a second chance by a fateful meeting, and had taken it. He was supposed to be stronger. He was supposed to protect them all. But instead it was Jester walking in alone, and then rushing out like the hounds of the nine hells were nipping at her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jester-Jester! Are you sure?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fjord had asked, begged as she came running out once more. There was panic under her smile that stretched across his features, magic pulsing under her skin and filling the air in a harried rhythm. Her veins were full of her god’s favor, that Fjord knew. She made them all shimmer like the diamond dust she had scattered across her skin, but never for her own sake it was always for someone else’s. It was that lack of care that had Fjord so deeply disturbed. There wasn’t much that Fjord couldn’t believe she wouldn’t trade away for them. She would trade her tongue for a person's life as he was tossed about in a storm, regardless of if that man deserved it or not. She would give beautiful scales for feet if that meant she could dance with her friends, regardless of the needles that pierced her skin every step.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything’s fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she reassured, her voice carrying a half-lullaby as if she was trying to soothe not only herself but the rest of them who were teetering between the edge of despair and terror. There was a lock of hair twisted around her horn that she didn’t fix, her tail lashed nervously about her legs, her smile was so tight he was afraid it would snap her lips. Fjord helped her gather their traumatized friends up and set them on course again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is it fine? Fjord wanted to beg her. Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I thought I was going to lose you all to a decision we couldn’t make together again. I was terrified. I was scared, I am always so scared. Are you scared? If you are scared then couldn’t we all be scared together? We are together, but I feel alone. Do you feel alone sometimes, Jester? Is that how you can face a creature like that alone and live to tell the tale? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Fjord’s throat was too slick (with sea water, no something thicker, blood, maybe the sea serpent had taken his tongue this time) and no words could escape. Neither of them talked, because that’s what they did. How could one talk when silence was the price you paid for your wishes? </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>In the chest there were two sets of silk clothing, gingerly folded and placed alongside a child’s doll that was damp to the touch. Amongst those items, there was a silver pocket watch. On the back of the pocket-watch Fjord caught a glimpse of initials as she turned it. B. V. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Big Viridian, Fjord thought, feeling a chuckle attempting to escape his throat as he thought on the woman who had taken them through the village of Rumblecusp. Veth turned the watch over in her hands, pulling out a small kit of tools and began to fiddle with it in an attempt to make it work. She grumbled as she did. That was Veth to a tee, Fjord thought idly amused, fixing something so small in such a huge clusterfuck of a situation. She gave up with a sigh, and Fjord watched as Jester reached across and fluttered her fingers. A mist of green and blue caught on the silver edge, and Fjord heard the ticking of the watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t planning on keeping that are you?” Fjord asked Jester as she cupped it in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keeping what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pocket-watch,” Fjord clarified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doll’s leg was wet with mildew, and it had raggedy string hair. It had been a human perhaps, a girl doll of some sort. Fjord wondered if the little girl was still on the island, if she had grown up here or if she had washed up on shore like what felt like a lifetime ago and just kept the doll as some kind of momento. Did the clothes belong to her parents? To her? To someone important that she could never replace? What was the difference between these villagers in him? The only one he could think of was that he had just been lucky in the place he had landed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe not, Fjord thought irritated as Jester explained her plan of interrogating the villagers to find B.V.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if they do remember? What if it’s important to them? What if they do remember and they don’t want to speak up for...I don’t know fear of retribution or being outed or something. We shouldn’t take it,” Fjord tried to explain the taste of a cold blade on the tip of his tongue, watching Jester’s face draw in like storm clouds in a grey sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if someone hears the ticking sound that follows us everywhere?” Caduceus added from where he was currently inspecting the box itself. Fjord found himself grateful to him for the millionth time since knowing him. Caduceus was steady at the wheel in a way that Fjord found himself lacking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deep breaths</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Cad had advised during one meditation.</span>
  <em>
    <span> She can only hear you when you are breathing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we know the initials we can put it back. It’ll be a nice treat to open a box and find it working,” Fjord attempted to explain to Jester, but she drew even further away from him.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was pretty dusty, but sure. Put it back, Fjord’s feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>honorable</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jester said with a scoff and a look she shared with Veth as she tossed Veth the watch. Fjord leveled a glare at them both, and realized that he didn’t think he had ever glared at Jester before. He hadn’t liked how callous she had sounded...it made his stomach feel funny. It made him wonder if she was serious about things he had thought she was joking about like letting people blow up in a volcano or forget in a strange mist about her god-who-wasn’t-really-a-god. It made him doubt her...even though she had been the single constant in his life since this craziness had all begun.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her that night, with Yasha’s music still ringing...haunting and sad and beautiful in his ears. Jester slept fleetingly and restlessly, turning over in her sleep like she was on the verge of waking. Fjord wished for a moment he could make it stop. When had it happened? When had they drifted apart and become so disconnected? Their goals so misaligned? There were a thousand scattered memories, and yet Fjord couldn’t pinpoint one. </span>
</p><p><em><span>It’s just stress</span></em><span>, a part of Fjord-the analytical one explained. </span><em><span>She doesn’t know what her god wants.</span></em> <em><span>Hell, her god isn’t even a god. You know that feeling well enough, how it is to attempt to appease something far greater than you that you have no idea how to appease. </span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And what if he is disappointed in her?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Another part of Fjord, the one terrified of turtles and scary noises in the dark and larger children with grabbing hands that pushed his head under water in buckets cried. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We could barely protect any of them, or ourselves, from the wrath of one entity. What will we do if...what can we do? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They would have to talk, Fjord thought. For once, they would really need to talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just hoped he didn’t lose her in the attempt to anchor her. </span>
</p>
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